The Chronicles of Clovis

In which an artist's reputation rests upon what he eats.

In which charity begins at home, and ends in a tea shop.

Present. Tense.

In which Nicholas meets the Evil One, and his “aunt” becomes acquainted with the rainwater tank.

“In a railway accident, things become very dear…”

Thanks… but no thanks.

Bertie might rescue Dora from the elk, but who can rescue Bertie from his grandmother?

Beauty is truth, and truth is optional.

A stranger on a train spins a good yarn. Horribly good...

Art exists in seeing the unexpected in the everyday: an ox in a morning room, for instance...

One’s memory often plays tricks. Sometimes on other people...

“Her view of life seems to be a non-stop run with an inexhaustible supply of petrol...”

You can always bet on a good meal at Mrs Attray’s. Or at least, you could...

or... Clovis and the Art of Defensive Matchmaking

'I think to have a quince tree and not to make quince jam shows such strength of character.'

If department stores are temples of commerce, it's always respectful to cover your head.

In which Clovis puts the case for a season of ill will.

A socialist socialite discovers that you can't make an omelette without breaking a strike.

"No-one is a hero to one's own office boy."

Blame it on the Borzoi.

In which Lady Blonze learns to be careful what she wishes for.

All washed up? Perhaps a cake of soap might help.

"Clear soup is a more important factor in life than a clear conscience."

One should always have something sensational to say in the train.

In which the children get an education the parents will never forget.

In which a scrounger is treated to a story that beggars belief.

In which the aristocracy learns a trick or two from the working masses.

There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood leads on to... sleepless nights.

For Hallowe’en, an atmospheric tale of death foretold.

In which the Duchess of Dulverton discovers that gold diggers make poor treasure seekers.

In which the restfulness of romance is greatly over-estimated.

In which Mrs Sangrail commits a social faux-pas and Clovis performs a miracle.

In which the Mullets lose a horse and gain a son-in-law.

In which Mrs Stossen attends a party, and Matilda makes a killing.

Petty vindictiveness is stronger than death.

White Fang meets White Mischief...

A man is known by the company he keeps.

The Duke of Scaw is on the side of the angels - but whose side are the angels on?

What dark impulses lurk in the breast of the editor of the Cathedral Monthly?

"Lady Susan disapproved of racing. She disapproved of many things; some people went as far as to say that she disapproved of most things."

In which Clovis pens an ode and Mrs Packletide finally bests Loona Bimberton.

They're in the trees. They're coming.

In which Clovis covers his aunt’s escape with a peach of a story.

The peace and quiet of the countryside is like a duck pond - calm and tranquil on the surface, but with secrets hidden in its murky depths...

In which the Baroness plans an entertainment, and Cassandra foretells disaster - with a little help from Clovis.

In which the Brimley Bomefields find an aunt - and lose a fortune.

Honey for the Prince?

Beware of horned beasts in autumn time.

Credit Crunch for breakfast, anyone?

A seemingly innocent story with a bleak and bitter twist in the tail - one with startling pre-echoes of an event that would lead ultimately to Saki's own death, along with millions upon millions of others. Perhaps its real tragedy, though, lies in the way it highlights how little has changed in the last century.